


The Secret Weapon

by DemonsDaughter



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Knotting, M/M, Rough Sex, Rung is an angel, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tailgate and Rung as babysitters, Tailgate is the most loving marshmallow to ever exist, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9162088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/pseuds/DemonsDaughter
Summary: Brainstorm thinks it will be fun to try out an age-reversing ray gun that turns adult Cybertronians into sparklings on some willing volunteers. Rodimus, Swerve, and Trailcutter try out the invention but unfortunately the device's reversal setting doesn't appear to work--leaving the three mechs as mechlings.Soon after the age reversal, the Decepticon Justice Division makes an attack on the Lost Light and are greeted by a new weapon, one which they have never encountered before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ridiculous story with lots of fluff because I needed a break from Conquered and the emotions going on there. So I made this. I know I probably shouldn't have posted it because it's stupid, but there will be some action and some smut scenes with the pairings I tagged, so I guess it has a place on ao3? So in case anyone is wondering why this is rated M, that's why. 
> 
> It's 3 in the morning and the delirious weirdo in me insisted this was something I needed to write/post for the world. So I hope you guys enjoy it for the fluffy mess it is *flies away*

Tarn watched the monitor, standing calmly beside Kaon as the Peaceful Tyranny crept ever closer to the Lost Light. They were about ready to pounce, the tank letting out a loud rumble. This would be the end of all those meddling Autobots. He would make sure of it. 

“Kaon, keep a steady course. I will go find Vos and alert Helex and Tesarus that we have located our prey at last.”

Kaon nodded, keeping his sightless optics on the controls as he took in the signals and radio data that allowed them to stalk the other starship. He was intent on his task, focused and ready for the impending attack.

Tarn strode through the halls of the ship until he came to Helex and Tesarus’ room, the two heavy hitters of the team currently fragging around in Tess’ room. Helex snarled loudly at something before somewhat quieter grunts and growls started to slip out from behind the door. 

“Heh heh, you know you like being the bottom. Can’t wait to-”

“Helex. Tesarus. We will be attacking the Lost Light within the next ten minutes. I would suggest you put your romp on hold.”

Loud cursing erupted from Tesarus and a deep hiss answered from Helex, the pair fumbling around to get themselves ready for a mission. They had thought the other starship was much farther away and had wanted to spend their time getting out some extra energy. 

“You don’t have to be so rough pulling out, you made me bleed, stupid!” Helex spat, the sharp tip of Tesarus’ spike having nicked one of his outer valve folds in their rush to stop the interface. “Frag you, I’m not being bottom ever again.”

“That’s what they all say, but then they remember that I come packing!” Tesarus snorted, wiping off his sticky spike with a blanket before he tucked it back behind his cover. “Once this is done we need to get back to work. The /fun/ kind of work.”

“Don’t think so. You lost your chance,” Helex snapped, ignoring Tesarus now as he lumbered out of the room to stand in front of Tarn. The tank and the smelter eyed each other silently before Tarn stepped aside to let the massive mech pass. Tesarus followed, still sporting some purple-blue paint transfers on his tan thighs. 

“Awww, Helex, don’t be like that!” Tesarus crooned mockingly as he followed Helex to the command center. “I’ll make it up to you. Besides, you’re a DJD member! A little cut on your valve shouldn’t make you fall apart.”

“No, it won’t. It’ll make me want to rip you apart,” Helex growled back, surly now and in no mood to play games with stupid Tesarus. 

His armor flared aggressively like hackles of a canine, showing Tess that he had no interest in being approached or bothered. Amazingly the grinder took the warning, steering clear of the other mech but not because he felt bad for what he had done. Rather, he was hanging back so that Helex didn’t damage him before the attack on the Lost Light or get him into trouble with Tarn.

So the two brutes waited in dull silence on either side of Kaon, arms folded across their chests as they readied themselves for a fight.

***

Brainstorm had thought it would be funny, cute, and amusing since the Lost Light was on a very long stretch of travel before it would come to a hub world or any Knights of Cybertron…Not that Brainstorm really believed that the Knights were out there, but they were a goal and a way to fight boredom. The gold and teal mech had assumed that his newest invention would also be quickly reversible, but he was mistaken. When he had attempted to turn back the handful of volunteers to their normal sizes and ages, he was shocked to find that his new ray gun didn’t seem to be working right.

“Brainstorm?” Ultra Magnus growled dangerously as the inventor patted the side of the ray gun like one might smack the holo screen if it didn’t get a good signal. The aerial’s wings perked up high in alarm, not sure what to say in response.

“Uh…I’m having a few minor technical difficulties…”

“Brainstorm! You just turned three of our crew into sparklings—INCLUDING RODIMUS!”

“I can turn them back, I’m just going to have to make some adjustments to the ray gun first,” Brainstorm said quickly, putting up his hands to say he was innocent. “Besides, they’re cute! Just think about that while I get the reverse on this gun figured out!”

Ultra Magnus didn’t get a chance to shout at Brainstorm further as the aerial had quickly darted off to the safety of his lab. Magnus would track him down later, but right then he had a much, much bigger problem on his hands. 

In front of him cuddled up together on a padded booth in Swerve’s bar were Rodimus, Trailcutter and Swerve himself, the trio staring up at Magnus with huge optics. Rodimus squeaked and opened his arms for Magnus to pick him up, the leader of the Lost Light mission now a burbling sparkling that could fit comfortably in the Enforcer’s cupped palms. 

“This /can’t/ be real,” Whirl snickered, watching as a miniature Trailcutter suckled quietly on his thumb while a very tiny Swerve tried to get attention from Magnus by chirping loudly. “Mags, you’re their favorite so far! Must be your charming and fun personality.” 

“Whirl, that’s enough out of you,” Magnus snapped, not exactly sure what protocols were for dealing with a commander who had willingly turned himself into a bitlet. Rodimus’ lower lip wobbled when Magnus didn’t pick him up as he wanted, the little one on the verge of throwing a fit. 

“Better pick him up, Magnus. Unless you want to deal with him crying and having a temper tantrum,” Ratchet snarked, Rung trying to peer around him to see what was going on. He had lived for such a long time that while sparklings were rare in their current age, he remembered the times when they had been prevalent and a part of many families.

“They’re very cute,” he murmured, watching as Swerve rolled over onto his back and tried to grab his pedes with his hands, once again seeking attention. Magnus was clearly overwhelmed and confused, his expression one of total insecurity. What was he supposed to do?!

Rodimus didn’t enjoy the fact that Magnus was refusing to hold him and scrunched up his faceplate. His lower lip wobbled and soon after he was bawling, making a few of the bots who had been gathered around the booth recoil in startled panic. Not many had been around sparklings or knew how to deal with them. 

“Guys, guys! Someone’s gotta pick him up! He’s scared!” Tailgate’s voice suddenly piped up over the sobbing of miniature Rodimus. “Hey, Roddy, don’t cry! I’ll pick you up, I’m not scared!”

Tailgate pushed his way past everyone until he reached the trio of sparklings, spotting Rodimus first. He did not hesitate to gather the bitlet up into his arms and rock him, one hand lightly rubbing Rodimus’ back. The sparkling hiccuped softly as he began to quiet down, tiny hands latching onto Tailgate’s shoulder armor. 

“Oh, I can’t forget you two!” Tailgate added, scooping Swerve up and cradling him in his other arm while Trailcutter quietly gazed up at the minibot. “Hey, can someone pick up Trails? I don’t want to risk dropping him.”

“I’ll get him!” Rung replied, thrilled that he would have a chance to handle a sparkling, even if it was technically just one of the crew who had been changed into one. Brainstorm’s inventions were always wild, but this one was the craziest so far!

Trailcutter huffed softly when he was picked up, settling right away against Rung’s frame. He was calm and relatively quiet compared to Rodimus and Swerve, once again going back to sucking on his thumb as he was carried about and talked to by Rung. His tiny red visor gazed up at the psychiatrist as he spoke, calm and hushed. Rung smiled, serene and soft spoken as always.

“Hey, can I hold one of ‘em? I want to have some more memory files so I can use them as blackmail later,” Whirl snickered, prowling closer to Trailcutter and Rung. 

Trailcutter saw him coming and started to cry, scared by the mech’s single optic and strange faceplate that contained no expression or mouth whatsoever. As a sparkling it would be scary to see someone looming over him that didn’t fit in with typical creator coding. 

“Whirl, you’re scaring him!” 

“Pffff, he’s just dumb. I didn’t do anything!”

Trailcutter buried his faceplate into an orange and white chest and clung to Rung, the tiny truck mechling trying not to regard Whirl at all. That made the helicopter angrier, the mech storming over to Tailgate. He figured he maybe could get Swerve to like him since the little bitlet was searching for every ounce of attention he could get. 

“Heya, Swerve!” he called out, the minibot appearing to understand his name but not fully recognize Whirl. He made a confused sound between a churr and a squeak, but finally his little faceplate molded into a grin and he began chirping loudly for Whirl. The light blue mech’s single optic morphed into a crest to say he was grinning, opening his arms for the sparkling. 

“Tailgate, think you could stick him in the curve of my elbow or something? That way I can hold him and stuff without getting the claws involved.”

“You promise you won’t drop him? Whirl, sparklings are very delicate.”

“I promise, I promise! Just lemmie hold the little tyke. I’ve only seen a few sparklings in my day when I was in the lower sector. And trust me, they weren’t looking as healthy as Roddy here.”

Tailgate carefully handed over Swerve, glad when the red and white mech chirped at Whirl and grabbed at his faceplate with curious hands. Whirl let Swerve do whatever he wanted, cooing things at the little one while making sure to remember everything in great detail. Swerve would be so pissed when he got back to his real age and found out that he had been so cuddly with him!

“You’re a little scrap heap, aren’t you? Yes you are! A tiny little cyber-shrimp,” Whirl snorted, loving it when Swerve squeaked happily back as if agreeing. “Awww, you don’t know what I’m saying, do you?”

Swerve burbled, making Whirl laugh some more. 

“Cyclonus, look!” Tailgate yipped when he spotted familiar purple armor in the crowd of curious Autobots. “I get to be a sparklingsitter now!”

“What are you talking about, no one on the ship is gravid,” Cyclonus rumbled, pushing Pipes and Magnus out of the way so he could see Tailgate holding a tiny Rodimus, Rung cradling a sparkling Trailcutter, and Whirl talking nonsense to a very small Swerve. “…what is this?”

“This is the product of Brainstorm,” Ultra Magnus growled, his stern tone getting Rodimus’ attention. His little helm peeked over Tailgate’s shoulder so he could stare as only babies could at adults with an unwavering, intense gaze. Magnus fluffed his armor up when he noticed that he was being gawked at, turning his optics away. That made Rodimus fuss, kicking and squirming slightly in Tailgate’s arms. 

“Of course it is. I should have guessed,” Cyclonus hummed, kneeling down so he could be closer to Tailgate’s level. Rodimus’ tiny helm whipped around so he could stare at Cyclonus now, a string of loud cheeps and some flailing limbs the sparkling’s way of attracting the purple and silver mech’s attention. “I must admit, he is much easier to deal with in this new form.”

“Cyclonus, he is the leader of the Lost Light! He must be back in his adult form because in due time we will get ourselves into trouble! Primus knows what danger this crew will stumble into,” Magnus snapped, not at all impressed with Cyclonus’ willingness to accept that Rodimus was now useless to the mission.

“Hey, y’know what I just realized? With Swerve all tiny and stuff, who’s gonna take over the bar?!” Whirl yelped, his new tone making Swerve burble cutely and try his best to touch the helicopter’s optic. “Woah, woah, no touching my optic! I need that thing,” he scolded, snatching a napkin off the bar booth and letting Swerve play with that instead. 

“Whirl, he might try to put that in his mouth. Make sure he doesn’t choke!” Tailgate said, hurrying over to prevent Swerve from tasting the new item he held. He squeaked at Tailgate, giggling when the blue and white minibot folded the napkin and made it so that it wasn’t a hazard. Swerve started to fumble around with it, clicking and growling softly at the item as he tried to unfold it. 

“Can I babysit them?” Tailgate asked Ultra Magnus, seeing that he was the second in command. Drift was thankfully taking a nap so he had not yet heard the news or seen his best friend in such a compromising position. “I used to have a friend a long time ago who always called me up for sparkling sitting! He had four so if I can handle that, I can handle three! Plus Cyclonus can help me if things get to be too much!”

“What?” Cyclonus grunted, his vocal tone indicating that he wanted no part in Tailgate’s babysitting job. 

“Cyclonus, it’ll be really fun! Sparklings are great!” Tailgate assured, rocking Rodimus as the mechling crooned softly. He was still trying to see what Magnus was up to, having taken a liking to him even as a bitlet. Magnus made sure to avoid optic contact, instead choosing to speak with Ratchet about the issue they now had to deal with. 

“How do we care for them in this state?” he demanded, hoping the senior medic knew. The semi truck cast a glance at Trailcutter and Rung, the black and red mechling currently curled up in Rung’s arms, his thumb once again in his mouth. 

“General care for sparklings isn’t too hard, lucky for us. They need filtered energon which can come from either an adult’s fuel lines or it can be filtered through a machine. I have a few in the med bay so we can start using those. I’ll see if I have any bottles as well. I didn’t expect anyone to be gravid on the ship but I always come prepared in case happy accidents start popping up,” Ratchet grunted, feeling a headache coming on from the new stress caused by Brainstorm. 

‘I’ll strangle him the next time I see him,’ he decided, plotting the inventor’s demise as he took his leave to go get some energon filtered. They would need a lot of it, most of all for Trails. Larger models like trucks and tanks from birth were always greedier for fuel than smaller vehicles like sports models and sedans. 

“Rung, please take Trailcutter with you to med bay or your office. He seems to enjoy your company and you seem to have some knowledge about sparklings. Whirl, hand Swerve over to Tailgate.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re not going to question if he can actually sparkling-sit?” Whirl demanded, ruffling his armor angrily. The blue and red mech growled a warning, turning his gaze on the other mech.

“Whirl, now is not the time to battle me concerning Tailgate’s or Rung’s qualifications. Having any experience with sparklings is enough for me at the moment. Once I devise some regulations then I will have a more formal discussion about such matters.”

“Killjoy,” Whirl muttered, angrily passing Swerve to Tailgate. The minibot squeaked happily and trotted off with Cyclonus following close behind. 

“Cyclonus, we need to read them stories and you can sing to them and—”

“No.”

“But Cyclo-nus!” Tailgate whined, their voices soon lost as they left the bar. Rung was still trying to pick his way through the crowd of mechs surrounding him, trying not to upset Trailcutter who was very close to napping. 

“Ultra Magnus, if you need me for anything, do not hesitate to com me. And Ratchet, when the energon is done filtering I’d like to pick up a bottle and a few cubes. Once he finishes resting I highly doubt he will continue to be so quiet and well behaved.”

“I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” Ratchet snorted, not even sure how to react anymore to the messes that happened on the Lost Light. Every day was an adventure and Ratchet felt that he was too damn old for adventures.

Magnus frowned sternly, trying to figure out what the best course of action would be from there. He would need to speak with Brainstorm and Perceptor before coming up with a useful plan. As the red and blue semi truck strode out of the bar towards the lab, he was nearly knocked from his pedes as the Lost Light shuddered and keeled sideways. Something had hit them. 

Alarms sounded, the mech snarling softly when he connected wirelessly with the external security cameras of the Lost Light. Their ship was being attacked by the Peaceful Tyranny, Magnus cursing as he spotted Tarn and the other members of the DJD beginning to board. He gave an order for most of the crew to get in their hab suites, hoping to save as many as he could from the attack. He sent out a different com to the best fighters of the Lost Light though, wondering briefly how long they’d be able to hold out. 

Magnus was halfway to the control center of the ship when he suddenly had an idea, skidding to a halt so he could change directions and run down a different hall. He had a secret weapon that the DJD would never expect, the mech’s lips ghosting into what one might have said to be a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I posted more of this dumb fic. 
> 
> I have no excuse.

Tarn felt victorious before the battle had even begun, Kaon felt excited for carnage, Vos felt jittery and hyper when he imagined all the screaming, Tesarus felt like he wanted to finish his frag with Helex, and Helex felt sore between the legs. The Decepticon Justice Division had most certainly seen better days, but the hunters moved swiftly from their ship to the Lost Light. They had a job to do.

Tarn’s tank alt mode made short work of the side of the starship, blasting the armored hull to pieces of twisted, warped metal. Once that was done, he calmly entered and smirked behind his mask. Few had dared to meet them, the majority of Autobots surely scattering in terror to cower in whatever weak protection they thought they had.

Helex and Tesarus got to work on Sunstreaker and Sideswipe while Tarn happily sparred with Fortress Maximus. Whirl was holding off Vos for the time being with Cyclonus guarding his back, Kaon trying to sneak around their defenses as they clashed in a flurry of violence.

“I figured you two would put up more of a fight than this!” Helex sneered when he caught Sideswipe in mid-attack with one of his larger hands and flung the mech into his twin brother. “But I suppose for two Autobots you’ve lasted longer than many of your comrades.”

“Shut your ugly face, Helex!” Sunstreaker spat, detangling himself from his brother so that he could meet the smelter head on. He put faith in his speed and agility, the infuriated sports model darting around Helex as he landed small but damaging hits to the larger mechs’ joints. Helex chuffed angrily and tried to catch the smaller mech, much like a bull would charge after a much quicker matador. 

Tesarus came to his aid, managing to catch Sunny with one of his huge pedes and kick him backwards. The Lamborghini spat a curse when he landed with a clang a few yards away, seeing both killers converge on his downed brother.

“Sides, get up!” he shouted, although he could feel across the bond they shared as twins that the red mech was knocked unconscious.

Then Tarn began to sing, bringing forth harsh screams from Fort Max and the others. Sunstreaker grabbed his helm and curled up into a tight ball, snarling and choking on screams as his spark and audio receptors felt as though they were being stung one million times by bees. Tarn chuckled at the sight, picking up Max in one of his powerful hands. Throat cabling crumpled under his grasp, Max kicking desperately to dislodge himself while gasping heavily. His main intake collapsed like a plastic cup in Tarn’s hold, the tank listening as the components crunched inward and buckled. 

“Where is your sorry excuse for a leader? Or his more worthy second in command? You have offered my team nothing in terms of sport and excitement, and for that I will make you all suffer twice what I might have before. You are all a pathetic lot of cowards,” Tarn sneered, tossing Max onto the floor so that he could slowly suffocate. The mech jerked and wheezed, clawing desperately at his throat. 

Suddenly the purple and black tank’s helm perked up when he caught a semi truck speeding down the hallway to meet him and his hunters. “Ahh, there you are, Ultra Magnus! I was waiting for you to arrive.”

Tarn readied himself to meet the semi truck, snarling as Ultra Magnus transformed and shot at him. The tank had assumed the weapon was either going to hit him with a bullet or a blast of energy, neither of which would kill him thanks to his very thick armor. So he leapt forward towards his attacker with confidence, claws outstretched and ready to sink deep into Magnus’ frame.

A flash of light blinded the nearby bots, Helex and Tesarus turning their helms away while Vos shielded his optics with one arm. Kaon was the only bot who was undisturbed by the blast, his sightless optic sockets staring unseeingly at the scene.

There was a tiny thump and then a very loud wail, the sound startling Helex so that the brute tripped over Sideswipe’s bloodied frame and landed on his aft with a loud clang. Tesarus was also terribly confused by the crying, the moment of distraction all Sunstreaker needed to throw a good uppercut at the grinder and knock him out for a few seconds. Across the room, Vos bolted like a panicked mechanimal feline towards the hole in the ship’s hull, his armor bristled. 

Once again, only Kaon seemed to have control of himself, although it didn’t last for long. While he was blind, the mech was able to sense frame shape and basic details due to his highly accurate grasp of energy field readings. So when he turned his sightless optics towards the area where Tarn and Ultra Magnus were, he easily made out the image of Magnus’ outline in his helm while Tarn…Tarn was not the same size or frame structure any longer. 

-Retreat! They have a shrinking weapon of some kind!- he commanded, Vos screeching something in Primal Vernacular when he spotted what had become of the DJD’s leader. 

Helex and Tesarus finally saw what had befallen their commander and were stunned senseless when they saw a small purple and black mechling on the floor wailing. Tarn was no longer an imposing tank with deadly claws and a vocalizer that could bring sparks to their end. Instead he was a tiny sparkling, sobbing his vocalizer out. Tesarus and Helex wasted no time in getting out of there, abandoning their commander in terror. They feared that they would also be shot and end up in the same position. Vos was still shouting in his native tongue, scampering away with Kaon close on his heels. 

Ultra Magnus fired the gun at the retreating frames twice as the DJD fled, but the weapon appeared to only work at close range. Regardless, he now had the fearsome, almost un-killable Tarn in his custody. The mechling still had a mask on, tears rolling down his hidden cheeks as he nursed one of his little arms. Magnus called for backup to patch the Lost Light’s damaged hull and medics for the wounded, bending down to pick up Tarn by the scruff of his neck. The sparkling keened, continuing to bawl in what was clearly pain. Upon closer inspection Magnus could see Tarn’s arm was at an odd angle, the bitlet screaming about the broken or dislocated appendage that had been damaged after his fall to the floor.

“Ultra Magnus, the ship is secure and the Peaceful Tyranny is backing off according to Blaster,” Cyclonus rumbled, coming to stand beside Magnus and peer at the miniature Tarn. “He hardly seems to be a threat now. What are we to do with him?”

“I…am not certain. But I will at least have some time to think,” Magnus said, relieved when Ratchet and First Aid hurried onto the scene to stabilize Max and Sideswipe.

“Are we gonna kill him? I wanna do it!” Whirl yipped, dancing over to see what baby Tarn looked like. “Awww, isn’t he a disgusting little murderer! Let’s take his mask off and see what kind of ugly mug he’s been hiding all this time!”

Before anyone could stop him, Whirl tore off the Decepticon mask from the small tankling’s faceplate, Tarn howling even louder when some areas where the mask had been locked onto his helm began to bleed. Magnus protectively moved the bitlet out of reach, although he did take a look at what Tarn’s true appearance was. 

He wasn’t badly disfigured or scarred as many expected, just a small patch of damage around one of his optics. Tarn stared up at Magnus as he hung limply in the bot’s hold, his faceplate contorted in pain as he started up some more crying. 

“Whirl, that was uncalled for! He may have been the enemy but he is now a defenseless sparkling! His claws haven’t even formed yet, so I will not have you tormenting him any further,” Magnus snapped, seeing Tarn’s once vicious digits were blunt and harmless. He was about as terrifying now as a newborn mechanimal. 

“Does he at least look funny?” Whirl asked, sneaking a peak and scoffing when he finally saw Tarn’s helm shape and face. “He looks like Roller mixed with some other generic fragger. Uuuhhg, that wasn’t exciting at all!” Whirl snapped, storming off to see if he could get involved with something else for better entertainment.

“Do you want him treated?” Ratchet suddenly asked, the gruff medic striding over to where Magnus and Cyclonus stood. “His arm is dislocated.”

“Only if he can be kept under close watch. Whirl is not alone in his longing to kill Tarn and I have yet to decide what action to take.”

“I’ll make sure he’s not stolen or shot. Hand him over,” Ratchet said, holding out his hands for the petrified mechling. The tank cried and hiccuped when he was passed to Ratchet, the medic cradling him instead of holding him at arms length by the nape of his neck. “Alright, you. Hush up, we’re going to med bay.”

Tarn did continue to cry on the way back to med bay, but he had hushed considerably once he was held. First Aid was working on Fort Max now, opening up his crushed throat to allow for better air intake. The large mech wheezed and coughed, First Aid assuring him that he was going to be fine. 

“It might feel very sore, but you’ll fully recover! I called Rung, he’ll be here soon to give you some company.” 

Ratchet checked on Sideswipe’s vitals, glad First Aid had stabilized him and stopped the worst of his bleeding. With the most severe damage repaired on all of the Autobots, the CMO could now work on the tankling. Even if he had no love for Tarn, he couldn’t exactly hate a sparkling. The little thing stared at him with huge optics and washer fluid stained cheeks, Tarn hiccuping and making a few softer sobs.

“Let’s see that arm of yours.”

Tarn shrieked when the medic gently propped up the dislocated appendage to get a better scan, the tankling making a huge fuss. He kicked and used his undamaged hand to push Ratchet away as best he could. It jostled the scanner, but the red and white mech was able to get the readings he needed. Luckily for Tarn it was a pretty easy fix. Nothing was broken, but the joint at his elbow had been knocked out of place. 

“Alright, I can fix you up. Hold nice and still for me,” he hummed quietly, trying to hold Tarn and prep a hearty dose of numbing medication. Once he found a main line in the mech’s shoulder, he gave the sparkling the shot in what he hoped was the least painful and quickest way. 

Even with all his effort, Tarn screamed. He bawled, kicked, shrieked, and only managed to work himself up more. Ratchet grit his dentas, trying not to become frustrated. He kept reminding himself that sparklings got scared and upset by things and the only way they could communicate was by vocalizing.

Once the numbing agent got to work, Tarn stopped crying and tiredly slumped against Ratchet’s chest plating. Scarlet optics half shuddered as the tankling slid closer to a nap, his pain numbed so he could rest. Ratchet made short work of the dislocation, popping it back into place and testing the arm joint for range of motion. Tarn would be absolutely fine and the medic wondered why he felt that was a good thing. 

Tarn was a killer! He had mauled and tortured so many bots and yet there Ratchet was, cradling the brute in his arms while he drifted off into recharge. It was ludicrous, but then again almost everything on the Lost Light was. 

“First Aid, I need to retire. I’m done. I can’t take this anymore!” Ratchet muttered, tipping Tarn’s somewhat bloody faceplate up so he could dab away the cuts from the mask clasps.

“You don’t really mean that, Ratchet,” First Aid replied, voice much softer and calmer. “I see someone hit Tarn with the age reversal gun.”

First Aid held out a finger to the baby tank, a somewhat pudgy hand reaching out to clasp the medic’s pointer digit. Tarn made no sound, too sleepy to care. First Aid lightly patted the sparkling’s helm, smiling behind his face mask when Tarn cuddled into Ratchet and dozed off. 

“Yes, and now I’m responsible for making sure he doesn’t get killed by any of the crew. I’d normally throw him to Whirl since he was such a nasty bastard when he was older, but now? I can’t let anyone harm a sparkling.”

“We can make a spot for him in the hab suite! It’ll be fine, Ratchet.”

“I don’t share your enthusiasm, but hopefully the DJD has been stopped. Without a leader they’re all vulnerable.”

First Aid nodded in agreement. “And maybe we can give Tarn a better life? Surely no bot turns out like him unless they were abused when they were younger.”

Ratchet didn’t reply, but First Aid noticed he hugged Tarn a bit closer to his chest plates when the sparkling mewled quietly in his sleep. Then the pair walked to their shared hab suite, talking quietly about what they were going to do about their newly acquired sparkling.

***

Rung carried Trailcutter to his office just before the alarm sounded, cradling the tiny truck to his chest plates. Trailcutter whimpered when the blaring sound went off around them and the bot carrying him hurried into his office, locking it down. The sparkling Outlier’s ability flickered weakly around his frame, the force field weak and barely developed at such a young age. But it was curious to see he was gifted even since birth, Rung taking note of it as he hurried them to the safest spot in his office. 

“Trailcutter, how about we look at some of my models? I can show you all the different Arks!”

Trailcutter cuddled into Rung’s frame as he was carried about, Rung going to carefully take down one of his models from their display. He held it out to Trails, the sparkling churring softly as he reached out for it. Tiny hands pawed at the item, playing with the movable wings of the starship. Rung sat down on a chair and settled the truck mechling in his lap, watching him play with the Ark with a warm smile.

“I can tell you a story about the Ark, too. Do you like stories?” he asked calmly, the sparkling turning a blocky helm up to stare at Rung. Trailcutter chirped at him, clutching the model Ark to his chest plates. “I think that’s a yes!”

Rung got the call about Fort Max halfway through his story, abandoning the tale so that he could hurry to the med bay. Trailcutter clung to the orange and white mech’s plating like a baby koala bear, going along for the ride in silence. 

Rung entered the med bay and easily spotted his mate laying on a cot, the steady beep of monitors filling the otherwise silent room. Nodding to First Aid who was working at the energon filtering machine, he strode over to Max. The huge mech was still loopy from drugs, but even that didn’t prevent him from noticing Rung had a little one clinging to his chest. 

“How are you feeling, Max?” Rung asked softly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his former patient’s cheek. “First Aid said your throat was damaged.”

“Whose sparkling is that?!” Max demanded hoarsely, optics accusing as he glowered at his mate. “Better not be yours. You /promised/ we were going to-”

“This is Trailcutter. He got turned into a sparkling by one of Brainstorm’s new inventions. The reversal button didn’t work, so now he’s stuck like this until our favorite inventor can figure out a reversal code. Would you like to hold him? It will be good practice since you’ve been mentioning sparklings recently.”

Before Max could refuse, he was handed a squirmy sparkling, Trailcutter huffing and puffing as he tried to snuggle in against Max’s frame. It was different than Rung’s, the truck’s tiny hands seeking out armor seams to cling to. Max didn’t know what to do or how to react, holding his hands up and waving them around in panic. 

“Rung, this is weird! He’s one of the crew!”

“You need to hold him so he doesn’t slide off of your frame. Like this,” Rung said gently, ignoring the comment and instead guiding Max’s hands and arms so they correctly cradled Trailcutter’s small frame. The mechling chuffed cutely and settled right down, surprisingly agreeable for a bitlet. 

“How long will he be like this?”

“I have no clue. But we need to take care of him until Brainstorm gets the codes for the reversal gun.”

Max frowned, but he did seem to soften when he glanced down at his arms and was met by a red visor. “Hey there, Trails.”

A soft burble answered him, Trailcutter nestling in close. 

“I was telling him about Ark 1,” Rung said, sitting down on the side of Max’s cot and handing over the model to Trailcutter again. Max watched as the bitlet played with the model, waving it around and ‘driving’ it up blue chest armor. “Do you want to tell him a story? He’s a very good listener.”

“I suppose I could tell him something short before my throat gets worn out. Does it have to be about an Ark?”

“It can be anything you want.”

“Alright then. I’ll tell him a fable about a turbo-fox and a petro-rabbit. I’m sure bitlets like that kind of thing.”

And so Max began his story, pleased when Trails stopped fiddling with the model Ark to stare at him as only sparklings could, trying to take in the story and the vocal tones of the huge blue mech. Rung leaned against his companion and kissed him once more on the cheek, so pleased with how Max had improved. He had gone from a wrathful, hurting mech to a gentle giant, red optics meeting blue in a silent exchange of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The DJD will come in next chapter, so stick around if you want to see their reactions to their leader being turned into a sparkling lol. Also Tesarus and Helex will have some smut, so if you were looking forward to that, you'll get your wish soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally this chapter has some smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back in college and it's causing my updates to be way slower than I'd like. Thankfully we got a snow day today from the insane storm, so I had some extra time to finish up this chapter for ya'll! Hopefully it will be enjoyable and prove to everyone I haven't disappeared, I've just gotten sucked into the world of homework and 12 page papers~

Tailgate fretted when the alarms went off, sheltering Swerve and Rodimus as best he could by holding them tight to his chest. The bitlets fussed, scared of the loud noise and the flighty behavior of their babysitter. Cyclonus rushing from the room had also spooked the little ones, Tailgate huddling with them on the berth after the door to the hab suite slammed shut. 

“It’s okay, we’re safe in here!” Tailgate assured, patting Rodimus and Swerve on their tiny helms. “Cyclonus will make sure everything comes out alright! So, how about we watch a movie? Or I could read to you? I don’t know what you guys like yet!”

Rodimus pouted, making it clear that he didn’t like the ideas that were offered. Instead he reached out his tiny hands and tried to grab something that caught his optic on Cyclonus’ desk. Tailgate perked up, seeing that Roddy was moving to grab one of Cyclonus’ chess pieces, the game left unfinished from earlier in the day. 

“Be careful with it, Rodimus. I think Cyclonus will let you borrow it, but just for a little while, okay?” Tailgate said, letting the sparkling hold the black Knight in his little hands. Rodimus chirped and clicked, waving the chess piece around before he presented it to Swerve. Swerve giggled, kicking tiny legs as he was shifted to a better position in Tailgate’s arms.

Tailgate ended up showing the sparklings every piece, the chess board no longer orderly or correctly set up. It was strewn with Pawns and Bishops, Kings and Queens, their colors and ranks mixed in a chaos they could not control. 

Rodimus was proving to be the fussiest of bitlets, mewling and whining for things he wanted and also throwing a fit when he didn’t get the energon he wanted. He was hungry and Tailgate wasn’t paying enough attention to him! The tricolor sparkling pouted, huffing angrily. He was debating whether or not he wanted to cry, the sparkling determined to get the fuel he wanted. 

Swerve was also showing signs of hunger, nuzzling his faceplate into Tailgate’s frame as if he were rooting around for fuel lines. Tailgate finally got the idea that the sparklings were hungry, standing up and cautiously moving to the door. Was it safe to go outside? He hadn’t heard a report yet but sometimes when things got hectic on the Lost Light things didn’t get announced right away.

Rodimus squirmed. Swerve whined. Regardless of whether or not it was totally safe, Tailgate had to get the little ones something to eat. 

The blue and white minibot finally got up the courage to open the door, peering outside and finding no signs of danger in the hallway. So he slipped out of the hab suite and trotted to the med bay, a sparkling cradled in each arm. Swerve laughed the entire time, loving the fact that they were moving and doing something. He grinned at Tailgate, squealing with glee when the sliding door of the med bay opened with a loud whoosh. 

“Ratchet? First Aid?” Tailgate called, hoping one of the medics was near. He kept his voice low though, seeing that Sideswipe was asleep in one of the cots, his red side rising and falling peacefully. Sunstreaker sat beside the berth, chin resting in one hand. 

“They’re in their room, Tailgate,” Sunny finally said, gesturing with his helm in the correct direction. 

“Thank you,” First Aid said, scurrying to the medic’s quarters. He hoped he wasn’t disturbing anything intimate or private when he knocked, a flurry of activity suddenly erupting inside the room. 

“Can I help you?” Ratchet’s dry voice asked, the annoyed looking medic opening the door. When he saw it was Tailgate with Rodimus and Swerve, his expression softened some. “Oh, it’s you. Are they looking for energon?”

“Yes they are!” Tailgate said cheerfully while Rodimus tried to get Ratchet’s attention by cheeping loudly. “Is anything filtered yet?”

“We’ve got quite a few cubes now. First Aid has been making sure that filter is running constantly,” Ratchet said, pointing to the counter where the energon filtering machine was chugging away, filtering out the harder minerals of their kind’s primary fuel. “Grab as many cubes as you need. Tomorrow I’ll come by your room to check on the crew-turned-sparklings.”

“Thanks, Ratchet!” Tailgate said, gratefully heading over to collect some cubes of filtered energon and two empty bottles the medic had clearly dragged out of his subspace from millions of years ago. Even if they were old, they would preform their job well. “Have you heard anything from Brainstorm?”

“No progress yet. The bastard has made a mess for us and has no way to fix it,” Ratchet snarked back, crossing his bulky arms over his chest while his jaw grit tightly into a scowl. “This whole adventure business was a mistake. I should have stayed home…”

“But then you wouldn’t have met all these new friends! Besides, everything happens for a reason!” Tailgate said, refusing to let Ratchet talk himself down. “You should come to movie night with Rewind and Chromedome! It’s a lot of fun and it’s great stress relief.” 

“I don’t think a movie will really help me at this point, kid, but thanks for trying,” Ratchet said, a ghost of a smile on his lips when he saw Tailgate turn to go. Even if things were bad, the minibot might be correct about the ‘things happen for a reason.’ Whatever that reason might be was unknown to him at that time, but Ratchet hoped he would discover the answer soon.

He disliked surprises almost as much as he disliked Brainstorm.

***

Kaon leapt into the command chair of the Peaceful Tyranny and swiftly drew their starship away from the Lost Light. He wanted to be sure the Autobots on board would not try to make a counterattack, the blind mech venting quickly from stress. He had seen through his grasp of energy fields that Tarn had been…shrunken down. Minimized. He was also crying like a youngling, which could only mean the tank had somehow been turned into a younger form. 

Whatever new weapon Ultra Magnus possessed was extremely strong, incredibly dangerous, and horribly disruptive. Now what were they going to do?! They didn’t have Tarn and Kaon had no idea how they would get their leader back again. 

Vos was screeching words that no one could understand, Kaon covering his audio receptors with his hands. Tarn had been the only mech on the team who understood Vos and now that the mech was gone, no one would be able to figure out what Vos wanted. That would prove to make their rescue mission even harder.

“What in the flying frag was that?! What kind of weapon makes grown mechs into sparklings?!” Tesarus bellowed, the grinder sounding quite distressed to Kaon’s attuned ear. “We gotta go back in there and get him!”

“Go back in there and get shrunken down like he did, you mean? Idiot. We need to think before we act,” Helex rumbled, sounding shaken but not as rattled. He was not the sort of bot to get flustered easily, Kaon nodding slowly at the idea. “Also, Vos shut the frag up.”

Vos hissed when he was hit, Kaon watching the energy field of Helex’s smaller arm connect with Vos’ helm. The sniper rifle spat something mean before he skittered out of reach, hunched over slightly as he eyed the remaining DJD members through intelligent rubescent optics. 

“Helex is correct. We need to think of a plan of action before we rush into a rescue mission. For now I will follow the Lost Light at a distance so that we do not lose its signal. I will also cloak us so they they cannot easily find us,” Kaon said, hands sliding over familiar controls as if they were brail. “Now, everyone take some time to think of intelligent strategies and then report back here to the command bay in two hours.”

No one said a word after Kaon told them to disperse, Vos disappearing in moments while Helex and Tesarus lumbered away together. Even though they were both shaken, Tesarus lightly bumped Helex’s upper arm with his own.

“Wanna finish what we started?” he asked, giving the other bot a big grin. Helex snorted, rolling his optics. 

“Are you serious? We just lost Tarn and here you are wanting to frag.”

“It’s a good distraction!” Tesarus insisted, the mech shrugging his shoulders. “We might as well, we have two hours and we both know the plan will come from Kaon or Vos. They're the smart ones.”

“Speak for yourself, I feel pretty damn smart,” Helex growled, swatting Tesarus’ upper arm with a fist as the pair of them lumbered off. Even though what Tess said was true, the smelter felt no need to agree with the grinder when he acted like such a brat. 

“Can we please continue? I promise I won’t pinch you again or whatever happened.”

“You made my valve bleed! It’s one thing if I’m bleeding from a normal spot but that area isn’t supposed to get messed up!” Helex snapped, giving Tesarus a glower as he headed to his room. “If you’re really that obsessed with me, you better make this good or you won’t get any for the rest of the week. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Now shut up and let me show you a good time, you gruff piece of slag.”

Helex rolled his optics at the ‘endearments’ before he opened the door to his room and allowed Tesarus to follow him inside. The moment the door shut and they were alone, Tesarus got up close and personal to the other large model. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, simply taking the time to regard the other. 

“You fragger, I know you want me to grovel and kiss your aft, but that’s not me. C’mere,” Tess growled deeply, tackling Helex before he could react or respond. With a deep grunt the pair landed on the smelter’s huge berth, starting to wrestle one another. 

“Spike sucker, I don’t expect you to grovel! I’d think you were turning into a List mech if you did that,” Helex snarled back, nipping at Tesarus’ neck when he briefly got the upper hand. Having multiple pairs of arms really helped, the purple and yellow brute pinning down Tesarus’ limbs with ease.

“I like you when you get mad, though. It’s hot,” Tess snickered, biting Helex’s jawline before he bucked the other mech off and pounced, smirking widely. “Pop your panel so I can show you a good time, will ya?”

Helex wasn’t the type to easily submit as he was quite the stubborn creature, his valve cover remaining closed despite the command to open it. Tesarus whined with annoyance, the grinder sliding off Helex’s frame to nuzzle his faceplate between warm thighs. Helex watched Tess carefully, one of his larger hands reaching up to pet Tesarus’ side. 

“Better work for it, idiot.”

“Shut up, I’ll have you begging for my spike in no time.”

Tesarus did have some skill, the mech beginning to lick gently around his lover’s closed panel. Helex grunted but remained unmoved, forcing Tess to offer more. The grinder amazingly didn’t seem to mind, nuzzling into Helex’s thighs and nibbling along his pelvic armor. Occasionally his glossa would dip between an armor seam, targeting sensitive protoflesh hidden underneath. 

“I can feel you heating up, Helex…just open so we can start,” Tesarus fussed, moving on top of Helex’s warm chest. That was one thing Tess loved about the smelter, the constant warmth of his internal melting components making his entire frame a few degrees hotter than a normal mech with a generic alt mode. “I’ll play nice.”

“You better or I’ll make sure you can never frag anything or anyone again,” Helex said, his scarlet optics dead serious. Tesarus knew he meant what he said, having seen Helex go into his ‘murder-mode’ as he had dubbed it, and nodded. 

“I won’t mess you up, don’t worry,” he assured one last time, palming the shut valve panel.

At last Helex slid back his cover to reveal plump, purple-blue valve folds already slicked with lubricant. Tesarus rumbled his approval when he caught the other mech’s warm scent, the metallic yet musky smell absolutely perfect. Helex jerked away slightly when Tesarus suddenly shoved his helm between the other mech’s legs, starting to lap at the now exposed valve. 

Only when he had gotten a good taste of his lover, Tess pulled back and licked his lips, commanding Helex to move onto his hands and knees.

“You’re bossy for a mech who’s lucky to get anything,” Helex grumbled, although he didn’t make any further complaints as he rolled heavily onto his hands and knees. He was done being stubborn, his frame asking more for attention rather than less. Tesarus grinned triumphantly, eager to drape himself over Helex’s frame and get into position. 

Helex heard a familiar spike panel snick back and shifted when he felt a heavy, thick organ rub between his puffy folds. Tess was thankfully being more careful this time, making sure he didn’t start rutting before he had made it inside. The smelter did make a loud warning sound when he felt Tesarus mount with a few hearty jerks, the grinder licking and nipping at Helex’s cheek and jawline.

“Hey, you’re fine…giving so much attitude even though I know it feels good,” he muttered, hugging Helex tightly around his waist until he had fully seated himself in his partner’s slick mech cunt. A few more nips and mouthing followed, Tesarus starting to arch over his mate. “How’s that, hot stuff?”

“Shut…your mouth…” Helex panted, rocking back into each forward thrust despite his gruff tone. 

Tesarus chuckled softly, speeding up his pace so they were truly rutting, biting at Helex’s warm nape as he fragged him. Helex was a quiet mech, so the sounds he made were soft grunts and huffs along with some heavy panting. Tesarus was much louder, happy to curse and talk dirty in order to get a reaction out of his companion. 

Neither of the large mechs were known for endurance though, so after ten minutes of hard fragging Tesarus had to slow his pace and try to drag out his overload. He could feel it building in his lower middle and from the way Helex’s valve was rippling and squeezing around him, the other mech wasn’t going to last much longer, either. 

“C’mon, Helex…overload for me.”

“Not until you go first,” Helex growled back, biting Tess’ chin before skillfully rippling his valve around the invading spike. “Overload.”

Tesarus hissed angrily when he felt his spike give a warning twitch, his control about to fail him. He latched harder onto Helex, gave a few more aggressive thrusts, then spent himself inside the smelter. Helex snarled angrily when Tess didn’t pull out to finish, instead tying them together. The spike knot was quite large and the pressure stretched Helex’s valve rim to a degree that made the mech almost certain something would rip. 

“What the frag, Tesarus?! You know not to finish inside!” he spat, trying to smack the other mech but unable to thanks to the awkward angle. 

“Shut up, you’re fine,” Tesarus said tiredly, rolling them both over onto their sides as he draped one leg over the other bot’s thigh. “We’re meant to be able to take the knots.”

“That’s because I never make you take it!” Helex snapped back, showing his dentas like a mean canid as he felt Tesarus nuzzle and lick and his cheek.

“It’ll go away, just relax and try not to be such a pain in the aft all the time,” Tesaurs snickered, finding Helex’s behavior amusing. He rubbed the smelter’s warm middle, trying to calm him down. “There are worse things.”

“Shut up.”

“I like you too, idiot,” Tess crooned, narrowly avoiding getting his face bitten by an irate smelter. Helex simply growled at him, staying as still as possible so his valve wasn’t tugged by the pulsing spike inside it. “Rest up! After this we gotta figure out how the hell we’re going to get Tarn back.”

Helex said nothing, his only answer a loud sigh.

***

Tailgate was glad to find that Cyclonus was unhurt, his roommate and secret-almost-boyfriend mostly scuffed and dented. Tailgate also noticed the purple warrior had meticulously rearranged his chess board, although he said nothing about its disarray when Tailgate had returned.

“Cyclonus, do you mind helping feed these two? You can take Swerve since I know you don’t like Rodimus that much,” Tailgate said, holding out the tiny red and white minibot to Cyclonus. Swerve cheeped, staring up at Cyclonus with huge optics hidden behind his visor. The warrior rumbled something under his breath, but did eventually take Swerve into his arms. 

“Do you have the bottles?” Cyclonus asked tersely, frowning when Swerve nestled into his arms and started to snuffle around for a fuel line. Tailgate nodded, producing two empty bottles and four cubes of filtered energon. 

Cyclonus said nothing more as he took the bottle and unscrewed the top, swiftly filling it full of energon, then carefully making sure there was no air trapped inside. Once that was done, he shifted Swerve into one arm and offered him the nub of the bottle. Swerve squeaked loudly, hands grabbing eagerly at the bottle. He made a racket until his mouth was occupied, the sparkling guzzling down the energon. 

“Slow down, you greedy little thing. You might make yourself sick, Swerve,” Cyclonus scolded with a gentleness Tailgate had rarely heard, watching out of the corner of his optic as Cyclonus pulled the bottle back and made Swerve wait a few seconds. The sparkling mewled and fussed, kicking his tiny pedes until he was allowed to drink again. 

Rodimus was really fussing now, demanding his own bottle. Tailgate felt bad, realizing he had been distracted by Cyclonus and Swerve for a few minutes and had neglected to tend to the little sports model. 

“Sorry, Roddy! I didn’t forget about you, I promise,” Tailgate shushed, preparing the bottle and offering it to Rodimus. The tricolor muscle car latched onto the bottle nub and suckled contentedly, Tailgate glad to find he wasn’t as enthusiastic about fuel as Swerve appeared to be.

He lightly pet Rodimus’ helm with one finger, watching warm blue optics flick up towards his face. Tailgate smiled behind his face mask, humming softly as he gave Rodimus’ helm one last gentle pat and then began to rock him gently. Rodimus finished refueling a few minutes after, hiccuping a few times before he settled in for a nice nap. 

“Sparklings are pretty cute, don’t you think, Cyclonus?” Tailgate asked, turning his gaze up and finding Cyclonus was watching him. 

“I suppose they are at times. Right now they are not crying,” he hummed, the larger mech passing Swerve back to Tailgate. “Where do you intend for them to recharge?”

“Oh, well Ultra Magnus said he’d take Rodimus since he’s scared something will happen to him somehow, but Swerve can stay with us! Let’s make him a crib or something!” Tailgate said, happily gathering some of the blankets from his berth and setting them on his desk. “I think I have a box in here somewhere. It’s not great but tomorrow we can get someone to make a better crib.”

Cyclonus said nothing, simply content to watch Tailgate flit around and try to arrange everything. He found it amusing, secretly admiring the little minibot as he went about his new task. And as much as Cyclonus hated to admit it, Tailgate looked good carrying around two sparklings in his arms, the domestic sight almost making the hardened soldier smile.

Once a crude crib had been put together for Swerve, Tailgate set the mechling down in it and tucked him in, Swerve yawning cutely before he curled right up and went to recharge. Rodimus was also put in the same crib, settling there until Ultra Magnus or Perceptor came to pick him up.

“Cyclonus, how long do you think they’ll stay like this?” Tailgate wondered, sitting down on his berth with the literal box of sparklings in his lap. 

“Brainstorm could better answer that question,” Cyclonus grunted, rising from where he sat to stretch. “I will be in the wash rack.”

“Okay, I’ll be here!” Tailgate said cheerfully, focused on the sparklings as Cyclonus plodded off to the rack where he could wash away the battle and muse about what his own sparklings would look like should he ever come to have any. 

Strangely, many of his young were light blue and mottled with white plating, the aerial turning his faceplate into the oil spray. He was being foolish to imagine such things, his optics shuttering and his mind darkening his unspoken dream.


	4. Chapter 4

“First Aid, there’s no need to fuss around him like a mother hen. Come to bed,” Ratchet grunted, the tired mech sitting down heavily on their berth. “He’ll be fine until the morning.”

First Aid was currently hovering over the crib they had made for Tarn, the bitlet still unhappy in his new setting despite the medics’ best efforts to make him comfortable. Tarn continued to cry and whimper, pawing at his repaired arm and the shoulder that had received the shot to numb the adjusted joint. First Aid frowned, trying to examine the tankling before he went to bed with Ratchet. 

“He’s hurting, Ratchet! You know I can’t go to recharge with him crying like this.”

“Aid, he’s not hurt. He’s bothered about some minor aches and pains that we already fixed. And don’t forget who this is,” Ratchet grumbled, flopping back into the berth and sinking into the wire mesh foam, a tired hand rubbing at his temple. “He’s Tarn. He’s a torturous murderer.”

“He isn’t anymore. He’s a sparkling,” First Aid shot back, although his voice was calm and controlled. “Isn’t that right? You just need someone to hold you.”

First Aid picked Tarn up, cradling the tankling against his chest plates. Whines and agitated huffs soon quieted and then hushed altogether, only the occasional churr escaping from Tarn’s vocalizer. First Aid smiled behind his mask, glad that he was able to make the sparkling feel better. Even if Ratchet didn’t agree with what he was doing, the younger medic felt it was the right thing.

“Aid, do not bring the murdering brute into the berth with us,” Ratchet snapped, trying to be gruff as First Aid walked over with Tarn tucked up against his chest plates. 

Ratchet’s next complaint was silenced before he got a chance to speak, his optics taking in the sight of First Aid cradling Tarn as if he were his own CNA. And for a moment Ratchet did replace Tarn’s frame with a tiny red and white mechling, imagining what a wonderful creator First Aid would be someday when their quest was over. The other mech seemed to natural with the sparkling, so calm and comfortable in the presence of the little one.

“He needs to have his dinner before he recharges. He didn’t want anything earlier and he has to eat,” First Aid said, shifting Tarn to one arm so he could grab a bottle of filtered energon and offer it to the purple and black mechling once more. 

Sitting down on the side of the berth next to Ratchet, First Aid pulled back his mask and smiled when Tarn finally reached out with chubby hands and latched onto the bottle, suckling quietly. There was no sound for a few precious moments, the mechs hushed as they experienced such a domestic scene. Ratchet turned his gaze away from Tarn, the tankling dribbling energon all over his chin and upper chest as he messily refueled. 

“Ratchet, he’s not so bad.”

“Don’t say that around the rest of the crew. They’ll think you’re a traitor with that kind of talk,” Ratchet said, trying to shut First Aid down before the bot got himself into trouble. 

“We have to move on. As far as I can tell, we defeated the DJD now.”

“If only it were that simple, First Aid,” Ratchet sighed, shaking his head. He highly doubted that band of killers were going to abandon their leader and run off with their tails between their legs. It simply wasn’t what the group was trained to do. “Anyway, go to bed. I keep having to convince you it’s a good idea and I’m getting sick of it.”

“I will soon. I’ll turn off the main light so you can get a head start,” First Aid said, dimming the hab suite so Ratchet would have an easier time falling asleep. “I’m not tired yet.”

Ratchet huffed, rolling his optics. Pretending to rest, he watched as First Aid carefully rocked Tarn’s tiny little frame, the tankling hiccuping a few quiet sobs once he let go of his bottle. Murmuring that all was well, the red and white medic pulled Tarn up closer to his chest and gave his back a few pats. 

“You’re alright. There’s nothing to be scared of,” he assured, smiling when big red optics stared back at him. For a tank type, Tarn appeared to be timid even for his young age. The purple and black mechling curled into First Aid’s chest, clicking very quietly. “See? Nothing to be scared of here. We’re not mean.”

First Aid carried Tarn over to his private desk in the room, sitting down in his chair so he could clean off Tarn’s faceplate and offer him the bottle again. The little mechling had only consumed half of what was offered, the rest still inside the bottle. Tarn yawned, turning his helm away when First Aid tried to give him the bottle again.

“Not hungry?” Aid asked gently, patting Tarn’s back while the mechling whined. “Tarn, you need to have the rest of your energon. You won’t recover as fast if you don’t!”

He knew that Tarn had no chance of understanding him, yet First Aid tried all the same to encourage the tankling to consume more fuel. Finally the sparkling returned to the bottle, staring at First Aid the entire time. His optics were so strangely innocent, not an ounce of the previous hate or rage in them. 

“Now it’s time for bed,” Aid purred once Tarn finished up the bottle, the sparkling’s heavy helm now lolling against the medic’s upper arm. “Goodnight, little one.”

He set Tarn down in his small crib, tucking the former killer into the blankets. Tarn fussed for a moment when he realized he was no longer being held, but in the end he decided he really was too tired to fuss and slipped off into recharge. First Aid made sure all was well before he moved to join Ratchet in their berth. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” 

“What do you mean Ratchet?”

“You’re too good for this world, First Aid,” Ratchet’s gruff voice sighed, the older medic wrapping First Aid up in a warm embrace. “I wish I could show you all the evil that’s out here, just so you’d never let your innocence harm you, and then at the same time I want to protect such a gentle soul from the horrors of our world.”

“Ratchet, I’ve seen awful things. I’ve lost a lot of friends and lived through some really dark days. I guess the only thing that makes me different from the others is that I’m willing to forgive.”

Ratchet said nothing as First Aid snuggled into his frame, rubbing the smaller medic’s back until Ratchet was sure he was also in recharge. Nestling his faceplate into the warm softness of First Aid’s neck, Ratchet shuttered his optics and prayed that sleep would find him. There was a lot running through his mind at the moment, demons and hopes alike plaguing the bot as he sought refuge in his dreams.

***

Tailgate jumped with surprise when he heard someone knock on the door, having been napping alongside the sparklings. Since Cyclonus was still in their tiny wash rack, Tailgate leapt up to go see who was there. It was either Magnus or Perceptor, one of the mechs having promised earlier to come collect Rodimus for safekeeping so to speak.

“Hello, Tailgate,” Perceptor said pleasantly, the scientist dwarfed by the hulking frame of Ultra Magnus hovering behind him. “We’re here to pick up Rodimus.”

“Oh, sure! Come on in, he and Swerve were having a little nap. Not sure if they’re still asleep considering I’ve just made a lot of noise opening the door and all…anyway, here’s Rodimus! He just got some fuel so he’s not fussy anymore.”

Tailgate gathered up Rodimus’ tiny frame in his hands, wrapping the mechling up in a blanket as he did so. Rodimus mewled quietly, bleary optics unshuttering to stare up at Ultra Magnus and Perceptor. Percy couldn’t help smiling as he took the little one from Tailgate’s hold and cradled him, turning around to show Magnus. 

“Thank you for keeping him safe, Tailgate. You’ve done well to make a mechling seek out a nap. Normally they cry and throw fits rather than recharge,” Perceptor chuckled, sending the minibot a warm smile. Tailgate beamed back, frame quivering with excitement. He was thrilled he had done well, hoping he would be allowed to continue babysitting Swerve.

“You’re welcome! Cyclonus and I have been keeping a close watch over them so they didn’t get into any trouble.”

“Very well. You may continue to care for Swerve until further notice. I will be speaking with Brainstorm as soon as he unlocks himself from his laboratory,” Ultra Magnus said briskly, ushering Perceptor along. “I will contact you tomorrow once I have made new ordinances regarding sparklings and their care requirements.”

“Magnus, stop this nonsense! There are no protocols or ordinances that you can tack onto the rearing of sparklings!” Perceptor scolded, giving his partner an annoyed glower. Magnus chose to ignore it, already devising what he wanted to type up that night. New codes were always fun to create, at least in the mind of a lawmaker like himself.

Once Tailgate had shut the door, Ultra Magnus appeared to relax considerably. He turned his gaze to Perceptor, the scientist cradling the groggy form of Rodimus in his arms. “What are we going to do with him in such a state?” he sighed, shaking his helm. 

“All we can do now is make sure he is content. I have been working on theories of how to reverse the effects of Brainstorm’s weapon. I think I can crack the codes soon and get our comrades back to their correct age.”

“I hope you’re right, Percy.”

Ultra Magnus sighed deeply once they entered his quarters, bypassing his office area entirely as they headed for the berthroom. Rodimus mewled, shifting unhappily in Perceptor’s arms. His big blue optics stared up at Magnus, chubby hands reaching up to try and touch the huge mech. Ultra Magnus looked startled by the gesture, a deer in the headlights with sparklings. He had no clue what he was supposed to do.

“Just hold him. He seems to have a fascination with you,” Perceptor chuckled softly, giving his mate the tiny frame of Rodimus. “I’ll go prepare a bottle for him. He might be hungry before we settle him down for recharge.”

Magnus and Rodimus both stared at one another, optics wide as they tried to figure out how to react. After a stretch of silence Rodimus suddenly giggled, the sparkling chirping and grinning like crazy as he flailed his arms around. Magnus held his former captain closer to his chest, nervous he might somehow drop the squirmy bitlet. 

“Cease and desist! You are causing a disturbance of the peace,” Magnus mumbled, Rodimus only laughing and chirping louder at the funny, overly-stern expression the other bot was making. 

Perceptor watched the two from the corner of his optic, smirking as he prepared a bottle for Rodimus. The little one might want it later in the night and it couldn’t hurt to have it ready ahead of time. The bitlet would be waking them at odd hours, after all.

“How are you two doing?” he finally inquired, padding over to save Magnus from the curious sparkling grabbing at him.

“He is refusing to let go of my antenna,” Magnus huffed, unable to pry Rodimus’ hands off of his helm antenna. The mechling was fascinated with it, clicking and burbling at the lawmaker while he clung to him. “Perceptor, please remove him.”

“Rodimus, it’s time to go to bed and leave your poor second in command alone,” Percy laughed, genuinely amused as he untangled Rodimus’ hands and took charge of the bitlet’s care. Rodimus didn’t appreciate being moved, fussing and whining until he was given the bottle. Hungry as always, he hushed as he happily had a few more sips of filtered energon. 

Once he was content, Perceptor went to tuck Rodimus into his very hastily constructed crib, the sparkling mewling when he was placed in the blankets and wrapped up. Perceptor hushed him, Magnus hovering nearby to see what the techniques were for calming bratty sparklings. 

“Goodnight, Rodimus. Ultra Magnus, do you want to say goodnight as well?”

Magnus approached stiffly, cocking his head to one side as he looked down and regarded Rodimus, the sparkling brightening up when he saw him. Burbling and clicking, he opened his tiny hands to as for a hug. The lawmaker huffed, unsure what to do about such a thing. Glancing at Perceptor for guidance, the microscope and former sniper nodded, gesturing with his helm for Magnus to give Rodimus a little more attention before they went to bed.

“Goodnight, Rodimus. Tomorrow we will sort everything out,” he assured, reaching into the crib to lightly pat Rodimus’ tiny helm.

The sparkling simply chirped back, trying to capture Magnus’ hand before it was out of reach. He missed but didn’t fuss when the semi truck pulled away, before doing so moving one of the blankets Rodimus had kicked away back over the tiny frame. It seemed to make the mechling happy, a sweet crooning sound answering the blue and red bot’s attentions. 

Perceptor and Magnus then curled up in the berth together, Percy tucking himself comfortably up against his partner’s larger frame. He tilted his helm up to press a kiss into Magnus’ cheek, the truck blushing slightly. He returned the gesture though, a hand petting along Perceptor’s side.

“How are we going to mend this, Percy?” Ultra Magnus asked tiredly, the lines around his optics betraying his age and his stress. Perceptor caressed one of the larger mech’s cheeks, a warm smile on his lips. 

“I’ll find a way to reverse it. Sadly these discoveries take time, but there is no doubt in my mind that I will, along with Brainstorm, be able to make amends to this trouble.”

Ultra Magnus nodded, hoping Perceptor was correct.


	5. Chapter 5

“Have you all come with plans?” Kaon asked, the blind mech swiveling around in his command chair to eerily regard the remaining members of the DJD. Tesarus snorted, shrugging.

“What do you think, Kaon?” was his sarcastic response.

“None of you did except for Vos and since I cannot understand him, then we will be settling with my plan of action,” Kaon sighed, watching the energies of the other mechs move around him. While he might be blind, he was still able to sense the shapes of the others through his remaining sensors. “Vos, would you be willing to write down what you have conjured up?”

Vos hissed and spat at Kaon, skittering away from the electric chair to perch on a command panel. Taking his answer to be a firm ‘no,’ Kaon sighed and pulled up some maps of his own. He had been keeping them close to the trail of the Lost Light, desperate to stay within attacking range lest they lose their leader. Tarn needed to be returned to them and he would stop at nothing to bring the tank back.

They were nothing without their steady leader. Tarn was the glue that kept the DJD together. Otherwise they were just a collection of misfit killers with no direction. Their rage, bitterness, and hate needed a proper direction lest they take out their miseries on one another. Tarn was a master at commanding them, so without the tank they were in some serious trouble. 

“Can we leave now?” Tesarus asked, giving Kaon a nasty look. “Helex and I were kinda busy.”

“Shut up, you talk too much and no one wants to hear your voice,” Helex retorted, sick of how Tesarus seemed to insist on bragging about their sexual encounters to everyone else. Vos hissed a chuckle, making a rude gesture at Helex while his optics slit into naughty vermillion crescents. Helex’s armor flared, the aggression display completely ignored by the sniper rifle. Vos had no fear of the two largest DJD members, knowing damn well he could run away from them and never be caught should he need to flee.

“Vos, don’t antagonize them,” Kaon said briskly, hoping to avoid a fight. “And no, Tesarus, you aren’t allowed to leave because I haven’t even gone over what the plan is yet. We will be attacking within the next three days. I did some research on the gun that turned Tarn into a sparkling and have decided it has to be a gamma-ray type of weapon, meaning that if we armor ourselves in the correct metals we will be able to deflect any blasts aimed for us as we go to collect Tarn.”

“Where do you think they’re keeping him? I mean, he’s a sparkling now so…do you lock one of those things up in a brig?” Tesarus asked, puzzled as to where their leader would even be once they breached the Lost Light. Kaon frowned, not exactly sure. 

“We will simply have to kill them all and find out.”

“Huh. Sounds like a solid plan to me,” Tess replied, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I’ll buy it.”

Kaon dismissed them after that, ignoring the stupid conversation Tesarus started about which mechs on the Lost Light he wouldn’t mind fragging. It was juvenile and idiotic the way he talked, Kaon blocking it out for the most part and glad when everyone had moved out of the command center to do…whatever it was they enjoyed doing. For Kaon remained where he was, continuing to download new information from the main computer while contemplating their attack.

Where would they be keeping Tarn in his newly changed state? That was probably the only good question Tesarus had ever asked.

***

Max, Rung, and miniature Trailcutter ended up falling into recharge together in the med bay, nestled against one another for warmth and protection. It had been a frightful day with the DJD attack, but at least now they were safe and everyone who had been hurt was recovering nicely. During the night, Ratchet got up to check on everyone and make sure they were in stable condition. 

Before he left his room he made sure First Aid was recharging well, gently pulling their mesh blanket a little further onto the younger medic’s frame. Aid shifted under the soft material, snuggling into his pillow. It brought a tired but loving smile to Ratchet’s faceplate, the senior medic then glancing over to Tarn’s crib. He didn’t trust the tank even if he was a sparkling, peering in at him to see what nefarious deed he might be up to. 

All he found was a vulnerable, small tankling recharging in his crib, chubby hands curled around his covers. His faceplate was peaceful and calm, showing no signs of being a murderous Decepticon. Ratchet huffed and turned away, heading out to make sure Sideswipe and Max were doing alright.

Both Sides and Sunny were passed out, the golden twin’s upper half draped on the side of his twin’s cot while his aft remained planted in a chair. He was snoring softly, his crossed arms making a pillow for his helm. Sideswipe was stable, spark pulsing steadily and his monitors all signaling he was fine. Moving on from the twins, Ratchet checked to be sure Max was also recovering. 

He once again felt a small smile on his lips when he saw Rung was contentedly curled up between one of Max’s arms and his side. Cuddled in the small space between Rung and Max was Trailcutter, sucking on a thumb as he recharged. Ratchet was never really a huge fan of sparklings, but he had to admit that Trailcutter was cute. Cute and amazingly quiet and agreeable for a little one. 

Once he was sure everything was fine, he returned to his room for the rest of the night. He shut the door and silently cursed when he heard a faint mewl from the crib. Hurrying over before Tarn started to cry and wake First Aid, Ratchet found the mechling was awake and trying to get closer to First Aid despite the obstruction of the crib, one tiny arm already weaseled through the space between two of the bars.

“Stop that,” Ratchet whispered, moving Tarn back to the middle of his crib and tucking him in. “Go to recharge.”

Tarn’s red optics were watery, his arms escaping the blanket to reach up for Ratchet. He clearly wanted to be held, but Ratchet had no interest. Turning to go back to the berth, he heard a pitiful little hiccup from the former killer. A moment later Tarn was crying, the sparkling devastated that he was apart from the bots who were taking care of him.

Ratchet swore under his breath and stormed back to the crib, scooping Tarn up and rocking him. “Is that what you wanted?” he growled softly, Tarn’s lower lip wobbling. He was clinging to Ratchet with a fierce vice grip, trying to curl up in the medic’s arms to sleep. “No, you’re not staying with me like this. You belong in your crib.”

Tarn whimpered when he was walked back to the crib and tucked in yet again, holding onto Ratchet’s arm plating. He was a pitiful little mess, scared and clearly unhappy to be left alone. It seemed so unlike Tarn, the medic wondering how anyone had made a mechling like that turn into a hunter, much less a torturer. 

Ratchet retreated to his berth and got comfortable next to First Aid once more, but he could hear Tarn shuffling around unhappily in his crib, the mechling whimpering very quietly for someone to come get him. It wasn’t a sound of physical hurt, but a lonely one instead. He was scared to be left separate from the older mechs, whimpers turning into distress cheeps a few minutes after. 

The sounds tugged on Ratchet’s heartstrings, urging the medic to go help. It was both his creator coding seeping through and also a sign of Tarn’s vocal abilities beginning to show. He wasn’t using the spark manipulation to hurt anyone at his young age, but instead to come be with him. Muttering that he was too old for this, Ratchet pulled a pillow over his helm and hoped to block out the tiny sounds coming from across the room.

***

Cyclonus and Tailgate stayed up that night to watch some shows on their holo screen and make sure Swerve was alright. The mechling was recharging still, but he seemed restless in his slumbers. Kicking and rolling, the sparkling’s faceplate was scrunched up in a way that said he was upset. Cyclonus cocked his head to the side, unsure what was going on. 

“That seems odd,” he said, watching as Swerve flailed his limbs a few times and made a tiny sound of distress in his recharge.

“Do you think he’s having a nightmare? Can sparklings even get those?”

A few moments later after Cyclonus turned off the holo screen, Swerve woke up with a startled jerk and started bawling. Tears of washer fluid streamed down his faceplate, the mechling terrified of whatever he had dreamed about. 

“Awww, it’s okay, Swerve! Cyclonus and I are here!” Tailgate yipped, trying to soothe Swerve’s night terrors. The sparkling was a total mess, crying and sobbing over something neither Tailgate nor Cyclonus had seen. “Do you want something to hold while you sleep? A little action figure or something?”

Swerve mewled loudly, Cyclonus shying away from the noise. He had never wanted to sign up to be a babysitter, but because he was rooming with Tailgate he had become roped into it. He gave the minibot a look, sighing in exasperation. 

“Tailgate, he is too young to understand what you’re saying to him. He won’t be able to answer yes or no,” Cyclonus pointed out, Tailgate nodding in agreement. 

“I know, but he likes it when I talk to him. I think it calms him down. Right, Swerve? Talking always makes you feel better!”

“So be it. I need recharge, so you two may do as you like,” Cyclonus rumbled, worn out from the fighting earlier and the stress of Brainstorm’s new weapon weighing heavily on the team. So far there didn’t seem to be a solution to the problem, the three crew members and Tarn remaining in their sparkling state.

Swerve was still spooked by whatever dream he had had, clinging to Tailgate fiercely as he tried to calm down. A few more sounds of anxiety escaped and were met with soft cooing from the blue and white minibot, Tailgate promising Swerve that he was fine. Lots of rocking and soft words calmed the mechling down, his optics half-shuttering behind his visor. 

“Do you want me to read you a story? Cyclonus is going to bed because he’s really tired, but if we’re quiet we can read together. Sound good?”

Swerve, finally distracted from his fears, blinked at Tailgate and burbled at him. Grinning behind his mask, Tailgate wasted no time in getting onto his berth and settling in with Swerve. Cyclonus had already made himself comfortable in his own berth across from Tailgate’s, secretly watching the smaller mech out of the corner of his optic. 

Tailgate was fawning over Swerve, wiping away his wet cheeks with a soft mesh cloth he had found in his subspace while he wrapped the sparkling up in an organic blanket. The material was even more plush than Cybertronian mesh, Swerve appearing quite content to snuggle into it. 

“I like this novel so far. It might be hard for you to follow, but we can go slow! I’ll start us off at the beginning so we can both enjoy it,” Tailgate said, Swerve trying to touch the data pad with his chubby sparkling hands as the digital pages flipped past.

Tailgate began the novel all over again even though he already knew what happened for the first thirty-four pages into it. Swerve seemed to like the talking, looking at the data pad and then up at Tailgate’s face as he spoke. The minibot was talking in a whisper, trying not to disturb Cyclonus while he entertained Swerve. Not only that, but he had pulled back his face mask to let Swerve see his mouth, the sparkling absolutely fascinated with Tailgate’s moving lips. 

Chirping cutely, Swerve reached up to pat at Tailgate’s faceplate, a string of clicks and peeps following soon after. Tailgate smiled, setting down the data pad so he could hold Swerve better. Swerve burbled happily at the attention and continued to paw at Tailgate, exploring his faceplate. Huge optics stared at the minibot when Swerve discovered Tailgate had a nose, cheeping loudly at the find. 

“Shhh, you gotta be quiet so Cyclonus gets some sleep!” Tailgate whispered loudly, peering over at the purple and silver warrior to be sure he was recharging. “He and I have a weird relationship. I know you’re a gossip when you’re older, but right now you wouldn’t tell any secrets, would you?”

Cyclonus made sure to keep his venting even and his optics shuttered, but in reality he was fascinated with what Tailgate was about to say. What was a secret? And why was their relationship complicated? They were merely friends, or allies. Or perhaps just roommates who could tolerate each other. Cyclonus’ opinion of Tailgate often changed over the course of the day depending on what the little bot got into.

Swerve cheeped cutely, resting his chin on Tailgate’s chest as he waited for the older bot to keep talking. He had no idea what was being discussed, but Swerve loved watching Tailgate’s mouth move and hearing all the new words, the sparkling fascinated with language. It was the starting point of his own joy of talking and chattering, the interest in words having started at a very young age.

“Okay, so he’s the secret. Cyclonus doesn’t know but…but I really like him! Really, REALLY like him. He understands me and all that good stuff. He puts up with me, too! It’s fun having a bot like that around because I know he’ll always have my back! Getaway sometimes says that Cyclonus says mean stuff when I'm not around, but I don’t believe it. Sometimes he just gets grumpy, that’s all.”

Cyclonus couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his spark skipping a beat or two. Tailgate thought they could be more than friends or simple roommates, the minibot imagining them as something more serious. It was slightly concerning for the warrior as he had made vows to himself not to get close to anyone, yet also made him feel better than he had in a long while. At least he wasn’t the only one who was holding back a few secrets.

Swerve cheeped quietly and tried to grab the data pad again, wanting Tailgate to read more to him. His optics were hopeful behind his visor, Tailgate laughing softly at the sparkling’s cute antics. 

“Okay, we can keep reading! Before we know it we’ll both be caught up to the same place!”

Tailgate read to Swerve until he himself fell asleep, dozing off when the hours of the night became late. Swerve had been long asleep, nestled contentedly in the curve of Tailgate’s arm. At one point the data pad had slid off Tailgate’s rising and falling middle onto the berth, threatening to clatter to the floor soon after had Cyclonus not caught it. 

Setting the data pad down on their tiny shared desk, Cyclonus gently picked Swerve up and moved him to the safety of his makeshift crib. He set the sparkling down on the blankets there, tucking him in and making sure all was well. Then, before he returned to his own berth, he went to move Tailgate’s blanket over the blue and white mechs’ frame so he wouldn’t get cold in the middle of the night.

Without a word, Cyclonus slid into his berth and blinked a few times, wondering what he was going to do now. There were too many secrets, yet he wasn’t ready to sort out his emotions or wants just yet. So he would sleep and hope that in the morning he could collect himself and decide what the best course of action was.

***

Rodimus proved to be an annoying brat during the night. Perceptor and Magnus were both woken from their pleasant recharge by an insistent chirping, Rodimus sitting upright in his crib making a racket. Ultra Magnus growled something mean under his breath and rolled over, hoping to ignore the cheeping. 

-You can’t ignore him, he might need something- Perceptor sighed over their com link, getting a moody response from Magnus in reply. 

-Watch me-

Perceptor got up and shuffled over to where Rodimus was supposed to be sleeping, peering in at the mechling. Rodimus peeped at him, rolling cutely onto his back and kicking his legs. He was thrilled to have attention, faceplate bright and cheerful now that Perceptor was doting over him. The scientist sighed, shaking his helm.

“Rodimus, you must go back to sleep. Ultra Magnus and I are quite tired,” he murmured, trying to convince Rodimus that recharging would be just as fun as keeping them all awake. “Tomorrow we can do more things together.”

Rodimus mewled when Perceptor tried to leave, needy for more attention. The former Wrecker attempted to give Rodimus some more fuel to see if hunger was keeping him up, but the former commander only lightly suckled at the rubber nub of the bottle before he let it go and burbled softly. Seeing Rodimus was only acting out to get someone to fuss over him, Perceptor tucked Rodimus in once again and returned to his berth. 

-Is he asleep?- 

-No, I don’t think so. But I disconnected my audio receptors. He is perfectly fine, just looking for someone to give him attention as always-

-Of course he is. His bad habit must have started when he was a sparkling, seeing that his attention-seeking has come into play-

-It would seem so- Perceptor agreed, hoping desperately that Brainstorm would figure out a reversal for his newest weapon soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally had time to update! Only a month and a half left until graduation! I am almost free!!!

The next morning was peaceful out in the main room of the med bay. Sunstreaker woke beside his brother, a mumbled greeting exchanged between the pair before they settled down again. It was too early to fully awaken, the twins choosing to remain in the haze of the early morning. No one was loud or bothersome. Besides, it wasn’t like Sideswipe was well enough to get up and walk away. 

Rung yawned softly and stretched, optics onlining to find he was tucked in the safety of Max’s arm and Trailcutter was nestled in a recharging ball between his frame and that of the huge mech. It brought a smile to Rung’s lips, the quiet tenderness of the moment something he wanted to remember for a long while. Even if Trailcutter was part of the crew and not truly a sparkling, the image of a tiny family couldn’t help but sneak into the orange mech’s mind. 

Fort Max snorted loudly in his sleep, causing Trailcutter’s tiny limbs to momentarily shift as he curled up tighter. Someone clearly didn’t want to be woken up! Rung let the pair remain undisturbed, taking out a data pad to read as he waited for them to wake. 

He perked up when he spotted First Aid emerge from his shared room with Ratchet, the medic going around to each of the wounded to check their vital signs and make sure all was in order. Stopping to say hello to Rung and make sure Fort Max was recovering well, the two casually talked while Trailcutter and Fort Max dozed. 

“He’s looking good! He can be on his way whenever he wakes up,” First Aid announced, happy that everything appeared to be in order. After lightly prodding at Fort Max’s throat area to be completely sure, he had no qualms about letting the hulking mech go home with Rung…and apparently Trailcutter. “He’s adorable, by the way. So quiet!” 

Fort Max of course woke when hands were on his throat, groggy optics onlining while a menacing growl thrummed within his chest. Trailcutter made a tiny mewl when he felt Fort Max moving under him, the black and red sparkling’s hands searching for an armor seam to grab onto. Once he found one he latched on like a tiny koala bear and clung on. 

“What’s going on?” Fort Max demanded, glowering at First Aid as the other mech’s hands moved away from his throat. 

“You’ve got a clean bill of health! You can leave the med bay whenever you’re ready,” First Aid chuckled, gesturing with his helm to the small frame of the drunk-turned-sparkling nestled against the tank’s chest. “Your number one fan will probably wake up soon. He’s been so good recently I’m starting to wonder when the temper tantrums and screaming will start!”

The red and white medic laughed quietly and then wandered off to continue his rounds. When he had left the room Tarn had remained asleep and so had Ratchet, the older mech having pulled a pillow over his head to block out the noise the poor little tankling must have been making the night before. First Aid had been so tired he hadn’t heard it at all. 

Rung and Fort Max watched the other mech go, turning their gaze back to the truckling that was contentedly suckling on his thumb again. Big red optics turned from Fort Max to Rung, Trailcutter silently taking in his surroundings. He was so calm and placid for a little one it almost worried Rung. Was he well? What if something was wrong?

“First Aid?” he called before the young medic could return to his room. “Is Trailcutter well? He’s so quiet I worry for him.” 

“He’s fine! There’s nothing wrong,” Fort Max growled, possessively pulling Trailcutter into his big hands. He clearly did not want First Aid to come and take the little one away even for a few moments. The ambulance hurried over to check what Rung was worried about and smiled behind his mask when he noticed Fort Max’s reaction. 

“I only need to hold him for a few moments, Max. He won’t be harmed, I promise.”

“You’ll upset him, he’s just fine the way he is,” Fort Max snapped, the tank’s lip curling back in an aggressive display. First Aid made no move to take Trailcutter away then, instead turning his gaze to Rung. Rung was one of the only mechs on the ship who could always talk Fort Max into behaving himself. The orange and white mech made a tiny huff. 

“Fort Max, please don’t make things difficult. I want to be sure Trailcutter is healthy. Normally sparklings make more noise so I just want to be sure,” Rung soothed, patting his mate on his upper arm. Fort Max made another sound of dislike before he finally moved his arms and allowed First Aid to reach for Trailcutter. 

Trailcutter made a tiny ‘ufff’ sound when he was picked up under the arms and hoisted up into the air. Chubby legs kicked and his hands opened and closed around nothing as he searched for someone to hold onto. He saw Fort Max and Rung watching him and couldn’t understand why they were letting him hang in the air! He liked being closer to where it was warm and safe! 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you!” First Aid crooned, gathering Trailcutter up into the curve of one arm so he could take a few scans. He used his free hand to lightly prod and poke at Trailcutter’s frame to check for anything that might be amiss. Trailcutter huffed and puffed at the attentions, trying to push the ambulance’s hands away. “I know you just want to recharge but you can do that as soon as I’m done!”

First Aid’s scan came back negative for any problems and he happily admired the black and red truck. 

“He’s completely fine. I guess he was just a quiet one when he was a youngling,” First Aid chuckled, holding onto Trailcutter as the sparkling shifted and squirmed in his hold. He was trying to get back to Fort Max and Rung, a little whine pleading for the ones he trusted most to take him back. First Aid was too slow in returning the sparkling to Max’s hands and everyone startled when the little one let out a loud cry.

“That solves the mystery of why he’s normally so quiet. Looks like when he’s mechs he trusts he’s nice and calm!” First Aid said, quickly handing Trailcutter back to Fort Max. The hulking blue and silver tank growled but didn’t become more aggressive than that as he helped Trailcutter settle in again. 

“Told you he was fine. He likes us best and that’s the end of it,” Fort Max declared, Rung inwardly smiling at the tank’s possessive behavior. Tanks were like that. They weren’t always coded towards rearing young but it appeared that Fort Max had gained that particular quality. Fiercely loyal was a perfect descriptor. 

Rung thanked First Aid for his help and slowly got off the medical berth, motioning for Fort Max to follow. He wanted them to go back to his room where they could settle in and see if Trailcutter wanted something to eat. Fort Max was happy to get out of the med bay, clearing his throat once before he stiffly rose from his place on the berth. Trailcutter was silent now and perfectly content, holding onto Fort Max’s thick chest plates as the pair left the med bay. 

****

Neither Perceptor nor Ultra Magnus had had a very good night. Rodimus was fussy and demanding, always looking for more attention even after it was clear that everyone else had given all they could. It didn’t surprise the pair since Rodimus was an attention-hog when he was older as well. Apparently that quality had been with the tricolor muscle car from the start. 

“How many hours of recharge did we even get?” Perceptor asked irritably as he rolled over and curled into the warmth of Ultra Magnus’ side. The larger mech growled tiredly back. 

“Approximately? Four hours and eighteen minutes.”

“He’s crying again. I’m bringing him to the berth this time, it’s six in the morning and I had no intentions of getting up until eight.”

“You are not permitted to bring the sparkling—Rodimus—into the berth. He will get crushed.”

“Magnus, it’s fine. Trust me, I’ll keep him on my side of the berth and you won’t have to concern yourself about it.”

“There is surely some kind of protocol that does not allow sparklings to be close to this kind of danger. I could cite us both for child neglect and endangerment if something goes wrong…” 

Ultra Magnus was cut off when Perceptor leaned over and captured his mouth in a kiss, smothering any more words he might have said. Magnus’ sounds of protest hushed and soon he was rumble-purring, his frame thrumming under Perceptor’s wandering hands. The scientist-sniper broke from the affectionate kiss and smirked when he saw a breathless Magnus gawking at him. 

“Hush. I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Ultra Magnus made a quiet grunt and sat up, a big paw of a hand capturing Perceptor before he could get up and collect the peeping youngling in the crib across the room. Perceptor made a tiny squeak of his own, the red and teal mech getting pulled into Ultra Magnus’ arms. For a moment he thought he might see a hint of a smile, or something close to it, on the other mech’s lips.

“What are you doing?”

“I might ask you the same question,” Magnus growled, voice huskier than usual. “I did not expect to wake up to that.”

He leaned in and nibbled along Perceptor’s jawline, eliciting a gasp from the smaller mech. Ultra Magnus was about to fondle the microscope’s scope when Rodimus made a particularly loud chirrip and then a giggle. Ultra Magnus instantly released Perceptor, the scientist rolling out of his arms. He sat up, ruffled his armor, and glowered at the pair of bright optics staring at them from between the bars of the crib. 

“We’ll have time later tonight, love,” Perceptor promised, Ultra Magnus huffing deeply as he slumped back into the berth. Unbeknown to the rest of the crew the semi truck had a pretty high interface drive. It was shockingly easy for Perceptor to tease him and coax the larger mech into a round or two, the coy microscope always able to get his way. 

Ultra Magnus might run the ship, but inside their berthroom it was Percy who called the shots.

“We should ask Tailgate to babysit again. That would give us some time to finish the horrendous teasing you started,” Ultra Magnus said, watching as Perceptor picked up Rodimus, rocked the giggling youngling, and slowly padded back to their berth. Perceptor raised his optic ridge at his mate’s comment. 

“I was only trying to make you be quiet, Magnus. I wasn’t teasing you at all,” he mewed, acting completely innocent even as he settled back down beside a frame that was a few degrees hotter than it had been upon waking. “My, my, you do get hot.”

“I do not enjoy being teased,” Ultra Magnus rumbled back, nipping Perceptor’s jaw. Rodimus squealed with laughter at the sight, completely unaware of what was going on between the adults. Perceptor simply swatted Ultra Magnus’ bulky head away and nestled into the berth once more.

“We will finish up later. For now I’m going to try to rest, as should you. We’ll have a long day ahead. Surely something will happen as it always does.”

Rodimus was chirping and squeaking happily in the crook of Perceptor’s arm, trying to climb over him to see Ultra Magnus. The scientist sighed, allowing the mechling to crawl onto his chest and stare with huge blue optics at the semi truck. 

“He is absolutely fascinated with you.”

“I wish he wasn’t,” Ultra Magnus sighed, shaking his head. Rodimus rolled harmlessly between the two mechs and snuggled up against them so that his back was to Perceptor’s side and his front facing Magnus. Once he had snuggled in the chirping and squeaking hushed and like a switch had been flicked the mechling was fast asleep. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Perceptor groaned, rubbing his temples. “He would have slept all night if we had just let him get his way.”

“It is not a good idea to spoil young ones. They will learn bad habits and eventually turn into habitual law breakers…”

Ultra Magnus was hushed once more by a kiss, Perceptor’s optics glimmering with mischief. Magnus chuffed at him, the pair silently making plans for later that coming afternoon or evening. They had some things to take care of.

****

Tailgate was always up early, the white and light blue mech rolling out of his berth to check on the recharging frame of Swerve all tucked into his makeshift crib. He looked so calm and happy, oblivious to the world of adults. Tailgate really did wonder when Brainstorm would figure out the gun and change everyone back to their original sizes. Wouldn’t that be great? He wondered if the little versions of the crew would even remember what had happened. 

‘Just like Whirl said, this will all become some pretty good blackmail if they don’t remember anything. Not that I’d do that but still! I wonder what will come of all this,’ he thought, quietly amusing himself by making his berth and getting ready to give Swerve a morning bottle of fuel. 

Tailgate had no idea that Cyclonus was awake as well, the mech watching though a slitted optic shutter as his roommate wandered about and tried to get things done. Cyclonus made sure his breathing remained even and calm, not allowing it to give his alertness away. He doubted Tailgate would have even noticed but it was still smart to assume that the minibot had good perception. 

Cyclonus continued to imagine what it would have been like if it was not Swerve in the little crib Tailgate had made but instead one of his own CNA. It would have been a very different scene indeed. The purple warrior stayed still when Tailgate turned towards him and peered at his roommate.

He wondered if Cyclonus would be mad if he started making some noise getting the bottle together. The minibot was doing his best to be quiet but when he tried to screw the bottle cap back on it spun out of his fingers and went clattering onto the floor. Tailgate desperately tried to grab ahold of it, optics huge behind his visor when he saw scarlet orbs unshutter and watch him. 

“Sorry…” he whispered sheepishly, the noise also waking Swerve who made a burbled sound of confusion. 

“It is fine. It’s not too early,” Cyclonus hummed, stretching out so he could move his stiff joints and slowly sit up. “I hear that Swerve is awake as well.”

“He’s due for a bottle and I was trying to get it all done so you wouldn’t wake up but that didn’t happen!” Tailgate huffed, chattering away as he went to gather up the pudgy form of sparkling Swerve. The red and white mechling mewled sweetly, trying to snuggle into the warmth of the arms to chase recharge. “Hey, Swerve, don’t you want a bottle? It’s time for you to eat again! I read all the instructions from Ratchet and he said you little guys have to eat every six hours.”

Swerve warbled cutely at his name, optics blinking slowly behind his visor. He was about to make a fuss when he saw the bottle, hands instantly opening to latch onto the fuel. Tailgate didn’t even have to guide the sparkling’s mouth to the rubber nub, Swerve going after it right away. Quiet huffs and puffs were all that could be heard as the little one nursed. 

“I feel bad for his Carrier because he’s really aggressive with the whole refueling thing! I wonder if all sparklings are like this and how weird it would feel to be feeding a sparkling directly,” Tailgate wondered, giving Cyclonus a puzzled expression even with his mask in place. 

“We are made to be able to rear young, Tailgate. I highly doubt it feels unnatural to allow a sparkling to nurse provided all the coding is online and your frame is correctly filtering the fuel. As for feeling sorry for Swerve’s Carrier…I agree. Living with Swerve for Primus knows how long must have been difficult.”

A tiny smirk flitted across Cyclonus’ lips at that but faded just as fast. Tailgate made a little grunt of agreement and the two said no more, simply watching as the greedy sparkling guzzled down his portion of morning fuel. Cyclonus stood up and walked to the wash rack to quickly splash his face with some oil and help wash the recharge fog from his optics. They were always bleary in the morning. 

“He got the bottle all over him! I think he’s going to need a bath!” came Tailgate’s voice from the other room, making Cyclonus smirk for real this time as he bowed his helm and splashed it again with oil. Taking a dry mesh towel he wiped the wetness away and hummed in answer. 

“Would you like me to fill the sink with warm oil?”

“Yeah, that would be really good! I have to put the bottle down for a sec before he makes the mess worse. I’ll be right in!” 

Cyclonus turned on the oil again, plugged the sink drain, and calmly waited for the small basin to fill with oil. Strangely he felt like this task was completely normal and not at all out of place. Just as he had said, the rearing of young was something they were all coded for and if one allowed the coding to emerge it would do so readily. Perhaps he was growing old and soft, but the warrior had no qualms about tending to a little one with Tailgate at his side.


End file.
